


i'm in love; i'm alive; oh i'm burning

by hardlystraight



Category: The Letter for the King (TV)
Genre: Anti-Monarchy Sentiments, Bisexual Foldo, Canon Compliant, Character Growth, Coming Out, Falling In Love, Gay Jussipo, Gay/Lesbian Bonding, Lesbian Iona, M/M, Pining, Universe-Typical Racism, foldo is a little anarchist hee hee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlystraight/pseuds/hardlystraight
Summary: - "Foldo's eyes widen at that, bright before the torch.  Jussipo wants to kiss him right there and then, away from the Novices and his family and his town.  Just the two of them. But Foldo is so ... sogood, so stalwart and true, he doesn't want to compromise what they already have. The jokes and the debates and the stories Foldo tells whilst Jussipo strums alongside him. Foldo drops his gaze and tilts his head against the tree trunk.  "We're going to have to think about dinner," he says eventually, observing their camp back on the hill.  Jussipo tamps down on the want rearing its head inside him, like stomping on a flame, and nods along." -snippets from the scenes between the ones on screen.  cuts off abruptly you-know-where.
Relationships: Foldo/Jussipo (The Letter for the King)
Kudos: 50





	1. not like i'm counting the days (but it's been twenty-five)

**Author's Note:**

> hello :) this has been in my notes app since march, but i finally rewatched tlftk and polished it up to post. there's a couple more fics about this couple that i might buff out and add to the tag as well. happy reading!
> 
> title from 'burning' by maggie rogers; chapters from other songs by women.

It starts like this. The endless forest and columns of sunshine warming everyone's skin. The sounds of trickling water and scampering animals watching from overhead tree branches. The crunch of twigs and leaves under the hooves of their steeds. The sweat gathering on Jussipo's upper lip.

The trip begins with silence on everyone's part; Foldo had been the only one to verbally protest at the thought of killing Tiuri, but they all felt discontent settle in their stomachs. Tiuri was barely their own age - he was spoiled, maybe, and incompetent, but harmless. It was like premature mourning, hours of quiet contemplation at the prospect of murdering someone they barely knew.

Iona is the one who breaks it, the one who seems the least bothered by their circumstances.

"We should refill our canteens here," she announces as they approach a stream of running water, prompting Arman to pause up ahead. Jussipo and Foldo dismount in tandem, each eyeing the other in a curious fashion. They had been intermittently trotting and walking in a single file line and Jussipo had stared at the back of Foldo's blonde head for what was approaching 3 hours now. He was tall, that much was obvious. He stood at least a head above Iona, the shortest member of their troupe, and it's whilst approaching the small running brooke with him that Jussipo notices that he has to look up to make eye contact.

With the seal of silence broken, Jussipo strikes up a conversation as they fill their waterskins. He talks about his brother, the hyperactive little ten-year-old who was his number one fan. Foldo seems shy but responds in turn. He's an only child, he says, and it gets lonely.

Then they're back on the horses once more, making good time. Jussipo wants to talk to Foldo again or do something, anything, to pass the time. The lute bumps his shoulder on a particularly rocky decline, so once they're level again Jussipo takes it off his back and strums a note. He winces; it's out of tune.

Foldo's head turns for the first time on their trip, watching quietly as Jussipo plays with the tension of the strings until it sounds more natural.

"Countless men have only sought / the highest honour of Dagonaut / Those who yearn for knighthood true / Shall ... shall..." Foldo, still turned to him, smiles in amusement.

"Forgotten the couplet?" Jussipo nods bashfully and continues strumming, the notes filling the air with a sort of calm. Foldo's eyes appear softer, a happy grin turning the corners of his mouth upward.

"Can you two hurry up? And ditch the instrument, Jussipo," Iona calls, speeding slightly to catch up with Arman. Jussipo places it on his back once more, blowing a raspberry to her turned back, then takes his horse to a quick canter until he's with Iona and Arman, all of them pressed into a small party. He can hear Foldo approaching as well, and takes out his lute to sing obnoxiously.

"No one could quite believe her / The frightful knight Iona-"

"That doesn't even rhyme," she grumbled, using a hand to push his horse away.

"Could you use 'throw her' to match the last two syllables of the first line?" Foldo suggests, and Jussipo shrugs.

"My phrases must be steeped in truth, dear Foldo. I would had to have literally thrown her to maintain the integrity of the song."

"Touch me and I'll gut you like a cherry salmon," Iona says, two of her visible knives glinting in the sunlight.

"Come on, Iona," Jussipo croons, strumming a cheerful note. "You're the one who wanted it to rhyme!" She looks bemused and exasperated, giving him a push with a surprising amount of strength behind it. He grasps his lute and the reigns quickly, tilting to the side but righting himself in time. She trots up ahead, and Arman follows. Foldo offers him a shrug and keeps riding, humming to himself the same melody Jussipo had played.

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As it turned out, Foldo was a great conversationalist. He was eloquent but took his time making his point, which whiled away the hours as they followed Tiuri's trail.

"The truth is that I don't see the appeal of the royal family," he says quietly, threading a hand through his horse's mane. "I don't think it's a proper way to govern." Jussipo can't help but laugh at that, hands pausing from their subconscious strumming.

"What do you suggest?" Foldo appears to take a gander at their surroundings and, satisfied that they are isolated enough, clears his throat.

"Well, I heard that in Eviellin, things are more ... equal." The thought hadn't ever really crossed Jussipo's mind. His family did fine, he needn't think about politics.

"Yes, but they're not as complex as we are. They're less developed as a society."

"How do you know that?" Foldo asks, no trace of judgement in his voice. Jussipo stumbles for a bit, thinking back to what his father had told him.

"Well they- you know, they don't have statues or buildings more than two stories, they don't have chariots or anything, it-"

"But why are they the standards for a successful society? They fought off two of the greatest nations for thousands of years, alone, doesn't that make them better than us?"

"Not anymore, though," Jussipo points out, almost disappointed that he was winning the argument. For what? Eviellen was a country of savage nomads, everyone knew that.

"Not anymore," Foldo echoes, scratching his horse between the ears. "Unawen's youngest prince razed the ground where they stood and destroyed their livelihoods with cruelty unseen for millennia." His brow furrowed and his voice dropped a register, a seemingly hidden fury simmering beneath his tensile frame. "That's not power, its the opposite. He sacrificed men of Dagonaut, men of Unawen, let the death count grow and swell as long as every single Eviellin was murdered. Civilians, too. Children. That's weakness; a weakness of spirit, of soul. True knighthood is a pledge to help, to hold the power of a blade in your hands and use it only for good."

That's why I dislike the royal family. They are offered not one, but countless blades, they wield the force of thousands of men ready to obey, not because of their skill or passion to heal the world, but by right of birth. They inherit many things, but a conscience is not one of them. A single bad apple and entire nations are lost at the whim of a tyrant. Just look at us now; as benevolent as our queen is, she's been sending us on this fruitless war for what? We need a better system." Jussipo is struck speechless at that; he knows that _something_ is wrong with it - something must be - because all the adults in his life would firmly disagree. They would explain something about meritocracy or the honour of serving, but Jussipo finds himself baffled to agree with the boy. It's true that just because one queen is a good ruler, her brother may not be, or her daughter. It's luck of the draw. Foldo processed his silence and blushed.

"Please don't tell the others that I feel this way. In the wrong context, it could be construed as treason."

"I shan't," Jussipo assures him.


	2. vulnerable in oh-so-many ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are roughly split according to the episodes they belong to.

Riding with Piak is just about Jussipo's worst nightmare. The trail takes them out of the forest, the path becomes wider and clearer, and they pass a couple of travellers on foot. The pipsqueak ooh's and ahh's at every scurrying fox, every cawing raven and every disgruntled merchant.

"Do you think they have cane squares?" he asks, looking forlornly back at a passing man with a swollen backpack. "In Mistrinal I mean."

"What are cane squares?" Foldo asks, ever congenial even with the pre-pubescent nuisance.

"They're bits of dough with cane sugar sheets in between," Piak explains, bouncing on his horse, the concept of sugar seemingly enough to make him hyperactive. "They're so tasty, Mummy always gets them when the pastry merchant arrives in town."

"Does mummy feed them to you as well?" Arman asks, an ugly sneer on his face. Foldo and Jussipo look up in unison, levelling him with a glare.

"Speak like that to my brother again and I'll..." _What had Iona said?_ "...Gut you like a ... stringfish." Jussipo says, trying to muster her threatening aura. Arman laughs at him and turns his horse back around, ducking his head as they enter an archway. Jussipo turns to see Foldo, head bent and speaking quietly to Piak. A grin quickly spreads on Piak's face as they enter the town, Arman forgotten. Jussipo feels his heart beat quickly at the display, feels a warmth in his chest. Foldo smiles at him when he catches him looking, Jussipo smiles back.

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Jussipo feels a new appreciation for his horse now that he's forced to walk through the snow on foot. His ankles are brittle and cold, his lute is heavy on his back, and he's ready to fall asleep at any moment. The steed is gone now, set loose and probably grazing in a field god-knows-where. He's also being held at sword-point, but so was everyone else. They were all in this together at the very least.

"I'm cold, Jussipo," Piak says haltingly, and Jussipo lays a hand on his own coat, draped on Piak's skinny shoulders.

"It's okay pipsqueak, we'll be alright," he says, heart in his stomach. He was prepared to put his life on the line for the kid but he knew that it wouldn't make a difference. Perhaps if he and the others put up a fight they could take out the Red Riders, even if they didn't make it out alive. Piak could take a horse somewhere, he'd been trained to ride since he was 6.

"Piak," Foldo says, brushing against Jussipo's shoulder. "Do you want my scarf?"

"Too heavy," Piak stutters, drawing Jussipos coat closer and taking a deep breath.

"It's alright-" Jussipo says, turning to see Foldo holding it out for him. "Oh, I'm fine. You need it more than I do," he says, eyeing the long stretch of Foldo's neck. His Adam's Apple bobs quickly and they turn away to continue crunching through the snow.

"Did I ever tell you the story of the ice mermaids?" Foldo asks them suddenly, just as Jussipo's toe pokes a hole in his sock.

"No," he says, Piak shakes his head.

"Oh, but Jussipo, Foldo tells the best stories. He told me all about the evil tree spirits and the witches from the North this morning! Tell us, Foldo!"

"Well," Foldo says, "It all started with a town that lay at the bottom of a very tall mountain. It was a quaint village with many people who all knew each other. A tight-knit community. And it didn't often snow but when it did, no one would leave their house. If it snowed any more than half a centimetre they would lock their doors and block their chimneys, staying inside for days at a time until it all melted away. The people who lived there didn't know why they did it, all they knew were the routines of their parents, and of _their_ parents, and the fearful warning of treading on snow where you couldn't see the ground." Piak and Jussipo looked down at their soggy boots, trudging through what must be meters of packed snow, then turned back to hear Foldo. "Well," said Foldo, "One day, a travelling artisan stopped into town, to sell his clay pots. He stayed at the only inn in town, chatted up the barkeep and ate his cheap meal before bedtime. He did this each night for a week, and each morning he would stand in the square with a little table and sell his wares, little sugar bowls or oven plates or even sculptures of dogs and horses. Well, one day when he had made a pretty penny in the crowded square, he felt a wet drop on his wrist, and another on his cheek. Little snowflakes were falling, gorgeously intricate, so the artisan stopped to watch. But when he looked around, the square was empty, he could see windows being hurriedly shut and tea-towels shoved into the crannies of front doors. He packed up his gear, taking his time to place everything neatly in the box until he carried it back, socks beginning to soak as he knocked on the inn door. No one answered. He banged again, harder this time, but no one answered. By now, the snow had grown an inch, and his boots were very cold and wet. 'Hello!', he called, knocking harder, 'please let me in!'. But no one did, and as the snow fell and fell, it began to reach his knees and suddenly he felt something brush against his leg." Something _did_ brush against Jussipo's leg at that moment and he yelped, turning a glare on Foldo when he glimpsed the branch in his hand.

"You arse!" he says laughingly, forgetting for a moment that they were being walked like lambs to the slaughter. Foldo and Piak laugh as well, then Piak pushes Foldo to continue the story.

"So, he feels something slither against his leg, under the snow. Like a creature is circling him. He's frightened, so he tries to run away, towards something, anything, but the snow is higher now and he must wade through it like a river. Not to mention his pants were now soaked from submersion, and he was chilled and tired to the bone. Well, he felt a hand grasp his ankle and pull, further down than the grass he could feel through his other boot, and he took the small sugar bowl and hit the creature, injuring it. But it wasn't long before its friends arrived, grasping him and pulling him somewhere otherworldly, the ice mermaids had him and they wouldn't let go." Foldo paused, so the sound of their boots in the snow was the only one they could hear. Jussipo noticed Iona surreptitiously listening in. "When the snow melted, the villagers appeared at the site of the attack, but all that was left was that little sugar bowl, and it was trembling, it had something inside it-"

"What was inside it?" Piak asks, and Foldo shrugs.

"No one knows. Some speculate a scale, or a finger. It was driven to the top of the mountain and buried, far away from the village. And the travelling artisan was never seen again, but some say that whatever is trapped inside that sugar bowl keeps trying to get out ... and sometimes when it shakes hard enough, an avalanche comes roaring down the hill, drenching the town in snow for weeks."

"Wow," Piak says shuffling forward. "Are the ice mermaids pretty though? Like real mermaids?" Foldo shakes his head.

"You're thinking of Sirens. Mermaids are spiny, vicious creatures that fight other sea monsters for food. They usually have lots of scars and webbed fingers. And sharp teeth!" The conversation moves onto sillier topics, about magical creatures and worlds that even Jussipo knows are made up. But Piak's wide-eyed wonder at the stories Foldo can summon seem to distract the boy from his situation, a fact Jussipo is undeniably grateful for. He trudges on, pressing his shoulder amiably against Foldo's bicep, and hopes against hope for the best.


	3. forget about it, forget about him, forget about me

Waking up buried is something Jussipo wants no part in. He's freezing, aching, hungry and exhausted, they're stranded without supplies and on the verge of losing their one chance at knighthood. At the very least, this time around there aren't several vicious members of Prince Viridian's private militia watching their every move. They're alive, all of them. Jussipo keeps Piak close now, as they walk all night after walking all evening. Foldo and Iona go hunting, the former now their most proficient marksman after Arman's crossbow is confiscated, and the latter being their best tracker. They come back with two rabbits and another strange mammal that Foldo insists is edible. Once the food is ablaze on their campfire thanks mostly to Jussipo and Arman's quick work, the five of them sit in a sort of startled silence, processing the past twenty-four hours.

"So Ristridin really died?" Piak whispers quietly, and even Iona gives him a look of sympathy. "He was my favourite Grey Rider."

"I still think we should follow his orders," Foldo says, throwing a twig into the fire. "Help Tiuri. You saw the cruelty of the Red Riders. I shan't align with them and their Prince."

"Yeah, Prince Virillian is a bastard," Jussipo mutters. Arman gives him an alarmed look. "Not a- he's just violent and stupid. He's not an actual bastard as far as I know." Arman nods in relief.

"Well there's nothing wrong with violence," he tries, and Foldo levels him with a look." And stupidity?" Arman scoffs.

"Prince Viridian won the thousands year war. That's not stupid in my book."

"God, when will you people realise that the act of running into a field and killing as many people as you can before they kill you isn't skill, it's luck, and it's pointless. Am I the only knight that finds no honour in war?"

"War? Yes. Violence? No," Iona pipes up from where she's carving a rabbit. "It's a skill to hit a moving target, to use the give and take of your sword to disarm an opponent. That ability makes you powerful." She sinks her own knife into the largest piece, a juicy thigh, and bites down, handing the stick of meat along the assembly line. "If you can hone your skills enough, it doesn't matter who your opponent is. At the end of the day, violence is the only way to exert power. Even a pawn can take a king."

"Is it?" Foldo asks, "the only way?"

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When they're finished polishing off the bones and wiping their hands, Jussipo pulls out his lute again, providing some gentle white noise. This time when he runs his fingers along the frets, Foldo joins him in humming the familiar tune. No one berates him for once and soon Iona is out like a light, Piak following quickly after. Arman takes out a knife and whittles a large bone, sculpting it into a rudimentary horse. Foldo volunteers for the first watch because of _course_ he does. Jussipo could wind up being rich and famous and popular, but he can only dream of having the selflessness and unbridled desire to help that Foldo has.

He covers himself with his coat, a pittance of an effort but an effort none the less. The fire is still warm, however, and he drifts away to the sound of Foldo humming once more.

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Piak's slingshot is a quick study for all, and while they await nightfall to secure new horses Iona carves a circle in a wide tree trunk for them to practice with. Arman is the first to hit the target, securing bragging rights and first pick of the hunt for their next meal. Foldo follows, already an expert knife thrower, and a piece of bark chips off much to Arman's chagrin. He insists on going again to prove that he, too, could damage the poor tree more than it already had been, and hits the target so hard a startled wasp's nest falls from the branches. Foldo grabs Piak and Jussipo instinctively and they quickly get out of range of the swarm, managing to find a semi-deep river to submerge in while the wasps angrily circled their gear.

As they emerge from the stream, in their underwear after desperately stripping down, Jussipo squeals as something writhes in his shirtsleeve. He throws his arm out and a salmon is ejected, hitting a tree and falling limp. The sound notifies the wasps and the Novices quickly hop back into the icy water, now, however, on the lookout for fish. Catching the slippery buggers is hard, but Iona manages to take a knife hidden into her waist seam and impale a sizeable one. Once it's safe enough they crawl back to their gear, climbing quickly up a mountainside with their clothes and weapons, shuddering with the cold, and build a fire. The sun is just beginning to wane as they heat their underclothes, each novice retreating to the bushes to put on their itchy outer layers and holding their wet clothes up to dry. At one point, Foldo's pants catch alight and they have to douse them in water once more, to the chagrin of the tall Novice.

"My pants don't fit me because I grew after I got them," he explains, "Now the hem will be even higher."

Iona guts the salmon and Foldo sections it to cook, a small bite to stave off their hunger.

They all eat and then change once more, Jussipo barely waiting to pull off his leather vest and feel the linen on his chest. He notices Foldo, dazed and observing him, out of the corner of his eye, also half undressed. Was he-? Jussipo had been interested in boys for about as long as he could remember; an irregular preference but a common one. His first kiss had been at a market stall a few years ago, when a candlemaker's son had pulled him behind the tent and snogged the bejeezus out of him. Never saw the kid again, and none of his friends believed him of course. But it had been enough to open his eyes to his schoolmates and peers, his friends' older brothers, the Knights of Dagonaut in their polished armour.

His options were dismal, of course. A single boyfriend whom he had little in common with, coupled only because they shared a preference. It didn't last long.

Foldo ducked his head and looked away, glancing up tentatively to see Jussipo staring, unwaveringly.

"Fol-" he says, after shooting the boy a wink. "-Can I call you Fol?" Foldo seems winded and answers a quick and breathy "Yes," that sounds like an answer to a different question.

"Great. Fol, what town are you from? I know I've seen you once or twice, you know, before. At tournaments and festivals and such. You're in the year below, right?" Foldo nods, pulling his overshirt down and beginning the task of each lace.

"I live to the East, with my mother. My father is a minister at the palace. We're a small team, but we live modestly. I am in a year below, because we couldn't afford to send me when yours was enrolling," he admits. "I help out at the Abbey when I can, and I'm growing an avocado tree in my backyard. I stay busy, I suppose. I don't have many friends." He pulls a lace on his right wrist, tries to tighten it and grunts with the effort of using his non-dominant hand.

"Here," Jussipo says, "Let me." It's quiet for a bit, intimate with the fire crackling before them, cloaking them in orange light. When he's done Jussipo lingers for a second, only one, then withdraws to finish tying his boots. An apt endeavour as he decides to put his foot in his mouth.

"No wonder you want to change the world," he chuckles. Foldo tilts his head, unamused.

"How so?"

"Well, when you can't afford stuff then you're bound to see the world at its worst."

"I see it most clearly," Foldo bites. "Of the two of us, you and your family are the ones blinded by your circumstances, willing to excuse the beggars and homeless on the streets as expendable, willing to serve a family that sends young men into pointless conflict, willing to see yourselves as superior to everyone else, for what? Right of birth? Don't make me sick." The others were watching their argument with piqued interest now, not that they could ignore it. Piak looked worried, and a stab of irritation resonated in Jussipo's gut, alongside the guilt that was hardening with each word. "You're right, part of my desire is made of self-interest. It must be. If I was like you I would be a mindless pig regurgitating what my mommy and daddy tell me," Foldo says, his tone lower and more dangerous. At that, he finishes tying his shoes and sheaths his hunting knife alongside his sword, turning on his heel and leaving.

"Foldo!" Jussipo calls, to no effect. Foldo keeps treading into the woods, the last of daylight beginning to be extinguished. He turns to the others, sheepish, and grabs his coat and Foldo's, sheathing his own sword.

"What were you talking about?" Piak asks, laying a hand on his forearm.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, kiddo," he says, dropping a kiss on his brother's cap. He grabs a long stick from the fire, a sort of torch, and starts walking. "Stay with the others, I'm going after him. He shouldn't be alone in a dark forest." Iona and Arman look to one another and then to Piak, before settling down by the fire to finish their meals.

Jussipo broke into a sprint, seeing Foldo's back in the distance and making for it before he was out of sight. As soon as he was in hearing range he called out, once, twice, until he could circle in front and face him while he walked. "Foldo!" he says, now breathless, "I'm sorry, please. This is dangerous, just pause for a second-"

"Jussipo-" Foldo says, not making eye contact, "Look, _I'm_ sorry okay? Just leave me be, I'll be back later."

"No, I won't let you go alone." The gravity of his tone must reach Foldo, who finally looks at him, face flickering in the firelight. Jussipo holds out his coat and Foldo takes it, moving to a tree and sitting down against it. Jussipo follows suit, cross-legged in front of him.

"I ... I guess I expected better from you. I hear it from Arman and Iona, all this meritocracy, work yourself to death if you're poor and inherit it in abundance if you're rich bullshit," he murmurs. "I shouldn't have said those things to you, though. I'm sorry." Jussipo places a hand on his knee in a small attempt at comfort, still holding the torch with his other hand. "Is it true though?" Jussipo raises his eyebrows.

"Is what true?"

"Do you think that the only reason one could want to change the system is because they're personally affected by it? Do you not think that people have an innate sense of right and wrong and seek to fix what is unjust?" That quietens him for a moment, and they sit in the slowly darkening forest together.

"Um," he ends up deciding on, "I think we are products of our families and our upbringing. I think some of us have a penchant for wanting to heal the world, but given the chance we can _all_ become the kind of person that does what's right." He bites his lip, "You're that chance for me." Foldo's eyes widen at that, bright before the torch. Jussipo wants to kiss him right there and then, away from the Novices and his family and his town. Just the two of them. But Foldo is so ... so _good_ , so stalwart and true, that Jussipo doesn't want to compromise what they already have. The jokes and the debates and the stories Foldo tells whilst Jussipo strums alongside him. Foldo drops his gaze and tilts his head against the tree trunk.

"We're going to have to think about dinner," he says eventually, observing their camp back on the hill. Jussipo tamps down on the want rearing its head inside him like stomping on a flame, and nods along.

"We might be able to find something with the last of the daylight. At any rate, we'll need to be sustained for the ride out of here." Foldo nods and finally puts on his coat, unsheathing his hunting knife as he stands.

"Did you want to join me?" Foldo asks quietly, as if he isn't sure what the answer will be. Jussipo doesn't know either until he's saying it, yes. They make their way through the forest, briefly splitting up until Jussipo spots a duck on the edge of a lake and trills the birdcall they'd agreed on when the mission began. Foldo joins him soundlessly and they quickly capture it and put it out of its misery, with Jussipo stopping by another fruit tree to stock up for the ride the next day.

The group welcome them back awkwardly at first, then relax when they see the tension is gone. "There's a freshwater lake nearby," Jussipo says, "if we find an adjoining river we can refill our canteens." Iona throws a twig plucked of berries into the fire and grunts.

"Eloquent as always, Iona. Hold this for me, would you Fol?" Jussipo asks, holding out the duck as he begins taking out his sword. Foldo takes it and waits patiently for him to wipe it with his shirt before handing the duck back to be skewered.

"'Fol', eh?" Arman inquires, "Can I call you that, then?"

"If you so desire, who am I to stop you?" Foldo says on a resigned exhale. Jussipo watches the interaction with distracted amusement as he finishes sectioning the bird and loading it onto his blade, beginning the first shift of holding it over the fire. It goes like that, passing it around and turning it over the flame until it's ready to eat. Arman loses his first pick of the meal - is the last served, in fact - and has the good sense not to try bragging after the wasp incident. When his fingers brush Foldo's, passing him fruit to chase the taste of duck, their fingers meet for a second and Jussipo once again extinguishes the small, hopeful flame that sits wantonly in his chest.


	4. je ne suis plus là, baby

They ride hard and fast away from the stable, Jussipo keeping his eyes to the forefront and barely remembering to check that his brother is still with them. By the time they had put several hours worth of distance between them, it's daylight once more. They had all napped intermittently the day before, but Jussipo could feel his eyes begin to droop and his muscles ache with use. All he wanted was to go back to his bed at home, grab some cheese and bread from the kitchen and sleep until he was no longer tired. But Iona was unwavering in her direction. No breaks.

Foldo hummed a little, the same melody that Jussipo had been strumming for the past few days.

"Ought to put more words to that tune," he murmured, matching Foldo's pitch with ease.

"You pull that lute out again and I'll throw it harder than Arman did. Won't survive this rocky outcrop, that's for sure." A stab of fear reverberated in Jussipo's core at the thought of such a thing, and he certainly didn't doubt Iona's conviction. His hand wrapped protectively around the neck of his instrument, feeling the comfort of its smooth finish.

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By the time they finally stop riding, Jussipo is tired and hungry and his waterskin is dry. Iona, unbothered by human necessities like rest and water apparently, sets to tracking Tiuri on foot whilst the rest of them hide their steeds in a subtle underbrush, out of sight. There's a crunching sound and Jussipo turns to see Foldo's horse biting into a waxy apple, the fur of its snout being gently stroked by Foldo's elongated fingers."What?" he asks, catching Jussipo staring. "We walked straight through an orchard to get to the horses, didn't you see it?" Jussipo shakes his head forlornly.

"God, I could bite into an-" A red apple is placed in his field of vision, the fingers holding it aloft for Jussipo to take. "Really?" He asks, as if his mouth isn't watering at the sight.

"Yeah, go on. Don't think I forgot Piak either." Jussipo bites down and feels the sweet nectar immediately quench his thirst; he closes his eyes and quietly wishes that Foldo would stroke his hair like that damned horse. Piak's happy exclamations vaguely register as they make their way back to the rest of the group. Iona extends an arm in front of them when they arrive and nods to an open clearing.

"This is the main path and I can hear someone's steps getting louder. Presumably they'll come through here." Arman is slumped against a rock, massaging his knees after the mule affair.

"What did you eat?" He asks, looking at Jussipo.

"Um-"

"Oh yeah, you have-" Foldo wipes something - apple juice, probably - from his cheek and grins. "Gone." The ghost of his thumb lingers and Jussipo is about to speak when Iona shushes them.

As it turns out, when their target is well within their reach, Foldo and Jussipo are quicker than their counterparts and ride ahead, hot on Lavinia's trail as she gallops over the terrain."Do you smell smoke?" Foldo calls over the sound of pounding hooves, and Jussipo affirms. It feels thrilling, this part, the speed, the urgency, the chance of winning. Foldo's blonde head shining in the sunlight as they ride together. Is this what knighthood feels like, he wonders?

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After it all - the cave, Tiuri and that fire snake - Lavinia leads them to a river and sets down their feeble passenger. Foldo and Jussipo stand together; the image of Tiuri nearly losing his life weighing heavy on both their hearts.

"I, um," Foldo looks to him, eyes flicking up to see Piak join them alongside Iona. "I'm with you on the whole "let's help Tiuri" crusade," he says, quiet enough so that it stays between them. Foldo fails to fight a pleased smile gracing his lips, then turns fully so that they are facing one another.

"I had a question about- um, when you asked Arman-"

"Quit chatting," Iona says, looking over Tiuri with interest. "Let's get this kid back to Dagonaut."

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After long hours of being frozen, starved and held at swordpoint, Jussipo feels that this strange little town he's forgotten the name of is safe enough to relax at. It's the first bit of civilisation since Mistrinal and there's food, clean water and heat. That's enough in his book.

Lavinia immediately resigns to Tiuri's bedside and Iona and Piak leave to play some game they made up with rocks and lines in the sand. Jussipo worries about her influence on the kid but he figures that it was beyond him for the night. For once he wanted to relax, eat some bread, and play his lute. Foldo joins him and even pats his thigh in rhythm to some of the quicker tunes Jussipo plays. Dusk is fast approaching as they chat in the comfort of a bordered village, a small victory after the pressure of being five teens and one ten-year-old alone in the wilderness.

"What were you going to ask, at the river?" Jussipo asks, fingers sore from strumming. Foldo visibly blushes and sighs, shuffling his feet in the sand.

"Earlier today when Arman said not to call him pathetic. You said something..." Jussipo remembers it clearly and finds his own ears burning.

"Oh-"

"I was just wondering if- uh, well, that is, if you make jokes like that often. At men. Or boys, really. Arman is adolescent, barely a man-" The anxious rambling came to a close and a quiet descended on them, with Jussipo quickly mulling over his options.

First of all, was Foldo nervous because he thought Jussipo was some sort of pervert for liking men? It didn't seem plausible with the kindness he had directed to other marginalised people. Was he nervous for another reason? The interrupted moment late last night came to mind, Foldo's dazed stare at Jussipo's shirtless state. "Yes, I think it's funny," he says slowly, trying to step carefully. Foldo's eyebrows pinch.

"Funny that men are attracted to men?" he asks, tone slightly wobbly. Jussipo shakes his head - he might as well just say it.

"I only pretend to flirt with men who aren't like that. It's funny because they take me seriously and become enraged at the very thought." Foldo's eyes widen.

"Take you seriously because you-"

"Because I like men." Jussipo interrupts, closing his eyes. He didn't want to see Foldo's face contort into something disgusted or exasperated, but he needn't worry. Arman passes them and tells them to gather for a group meeting, so that's that.

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Foldo's new perspective is strange, but Jussipo finds himself agreeing. The comforts of home come in ghostly echoes in this town, and with hours to while away whilst Tiuri healed, Jussipo found himself weaker. He wanted butter and lemon-roasted turkey and his parents' castle; the softness of his bed and the chance to spend the day with privacy. He wanted his future again, the chance to be a knight after working so hard to beat his opponents in combat. He wanted the thrill of riding side by side with Foldo, the long conversations and campfire serenades. He wasn't going to get it by aiding and abetting a fugitive.

"Let's vote on it," he says, placing his lute down to stand. "All in favour of taking Tiuri back to Arman's father say aye." Their five voices affirm in unison, louder in their death sentence. "Okay," he says, "Now let's eat."

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He wakes up first, as far as he's aware, and begins stretching. First one elbow cracks, then the other. He bends over to touch his toes and then stands on his tippy-toes, elongating his body as much as possible. The sun is a bright white light, covered by an ivory cloud and bathing them all a bright grey hue through the single window. Jussipo looks back to the group and immediately notices someone missing. Iona. He looks quickly, now fully awake and escaping the barn they had slept in, peering at the nearby area for her signature sloppy scarf. He sees someone, perched on a hill and with their back to him, in their undergarments and moving through a series of body positions, arms circling and legs crouching and extending like a wave on the shore. The person turns and Jussipo recognises her, though its a shock. Iona's got her hair out, the strands reaching past her lower back and moving in the wind like they have a mind of their own.

He dresses unthinkingly and moves in the opposite direction, looping around to reach the berries they passed earlier and the wild fruit bushes he had seen down another path. He takes as many as he can carry and nibbles on the food as he makes his way back. The troupe are still dead to the world but Iona is back, winding a stag-bone comb through her hair and parting it for her braid.

"Morning," he acknowledges, and she nods back. He pulls a strand of his own hair in front of his eyes, awkwardly waiting for someone else to wake.

"Doesn't it get in your eyes?" She asks, hands moving behind her head instinctively.

"My hair? Well, I- I trim it once it's in my eyesight," he says, biting his lip. "Can I use your comb-"

"No," she says, continuing at a steady pace. She looks straight ahead while she does it, fingers working quicker than Jussipo can follow.

"Can you braid my hair?" He asks for want of something to talk about, but also because he's now mildly intrigued by the knots she ties in her hair. He'd always considered himself to have great hair, framing his face kindly but handsomely. It set him apart from the other boys as well, and behaved almost like a call signal to those with similar preferences in lovers.

Iona seems to hold back a surprised noise, hands finally pausing their trajectory but reanimating a second later. He expects her to say no again, tell him to do it himself or some such thing but she shrugs, dropping the comb in his lap.

"Why not. Comb it out first," she instructs, now reaching the base of her skull and beginning to braid with impossible efficiency. She pulls it around to the front, reaching the bottom of her hair within a minute and securing it with a worn ribbon from around her wrist. "Okay, now sit back to me." He twists around and feels her calloused fingers expertly moving through his hair and separating it like she did her own. He goes to adjust his fringe but she bats his hand out of the way. As she begins to braid, tight and painfully close to his scalp, she chuckles. "You have hair like my last girlfriend," she says, and Jussipo tries not to gasp and turn all the way around to look at her.

"I-I do?" he gets out, processing her admission. She nods solemnly in his periphery.

"Aye. Greasy."

"Piss off," he laughs and she joins him, pausing her weaving. She settles back and is silent for a minute. "You're the same," she intones quietly, "Aren't you?" He hums a yes instead of nodding. "Have you ever been to a molly bar?" She asks, hands resuming. She's quick and by the time he's trying to guess what she means by that, she's moving to the next side.

"Can't say I have," he says, and she lets out a hearty guffaw.

"They're proper fun, they are. Fellas powdered up and squeezed into ladies dresses. They tell jokes and dance around, a right laugh. Its where you meet people who're, you know," she says.

"Yeah," he says, "I know." There weren't any molly bars around where he's from, that's for sure. Not enough of a market to cater for. He feels the ache in his chest, a familiar loneliness. He didn't often speak to others of his sensibility, didn't have the words to. Besides that, they hadn't the patience or interest to hear about his preference or experience or feelings about the whole thing. Of course, now he had Iona. And all it took was asking her to braid his hair; perhaps his flamboyance could be more pronounced if he let it. If he peppered it into his conversations perhaps he could meet others like him.

"Who was it that made you ... you know. KNOW." Iona doesn't waste a beat before telling him.

"Shopkeeper at a dressmaking store. Couldn't afford a dress and hated them at any rate, but went in every day for a chance to see her working the counter. She had shorter hair than was convention, in my city anyway. And she was my height." She turns him around and observes her work, nodding in acceptance. "I did dual plaits going down your head, but I haven't got ties to keep em together. They'll fall out in a couple of hours."  
"Sure. Thanks, Iona," he says, genuinely appreciating the gesture. "I'll refill your canteen as thanks at the well," he offers, taking his own and holding out a hand for hers. She chuckles as she hands it over.  
"Want to catch your reflection, more like. Wait-" Before she lets go, she gives him a nod.  
"What was yours?" He knows what she's talking about immediately and blushes.  
"My childhood best friend," he says bashfully, "He moved away a long time ago but ... He was skinny as a pole and had golden hair, very angelic."  
"Sounds like someone I know," she says, laughing as his blush deepens. She lets go of the flask and claps his bicep. "Hurry back," she says, and Jussipo can hear in the tone of her voice that she meant it affectionately. He sees someone else begin to wake up as he speeds down the hill, taking pleasure in the early morning air. It's only while he's watching bubbles erupt from the empty skins that he remembers everything they discovered the night before. His chat with Iona was a welcome distraction but his parents were in danger.

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The earlier consensus regarding Tiuri is broken and swayed - despite Arman and his mockery, the sentiment of an assassination attempt on their parents is enough to send Foldo and Jussipo back to Tiuri's side. When they started being "Foldo&Jussipo" Jussipo doesn't know; his affection for Iona is powerful and Piak is his brother of course, but something feels different about Foldo. He's kind and tall and his smile is _so_ pretty. He'd been outspoken but still shy, like a nervous colt when they'd first met. Something about this trip had brought out his independence and strength, and Jussipo was proud of the small part he'd played in getting the boy out of his shell.  
And he wasn't past admitting his own growth. Before he'd been a self-absorbed pretty-boy and now he was ... well, he was still pretty. But he wasn't self-absorbed. Taking over as Piak's principal guardian and debating his fellow novices over their morality, or lack of, was enough to make him feel filled out, as if something had been missing and it was slotting in. It felt like ... like _real_ knighthood, the kind Foldo talked about. Solving problems without drawing a sword, a conscience that pointed stalwart and true, protecting the innocent and fighting for justice. A sense of purpose.  
Arman seemed to sense that his troupe had turned against him once more - he gathered the novices together after Lavinia drew Tiuri away.

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Piak licks Jussipo's finger and runs after he's let go, but the two of them stand transfixed at Tiuri and Lavinia. It's breathtaking - the petals and pollen circled around the two figures, the sun gleaming and bathing them in white light, Lavinia's hair weaving around her like branches in the wind.  
"What I'd give to be kissed like that," Jussipo murmurs, watching them draw away and a blush heat on both their cheeks.  
"None of your fellows whip up a hurricane of flowers during a snog?" Foldo teased, and it's with a quiet exhale of relief that Jussipo realises that his openness hadn't changed things between them.  
"Fellows," he parrots humorously. "Two lads with six and a half snogs between them." Foldo moves away from the window and sits himself on the dark wood floor.  
"Half?"  
"We got interrupted," Jussipo explains, joining him.  
"Still, that's better than me," Foldo sighs. Jussipo nudges him with a boot, grinning.  
"Yeah? How many lucky ladies got a taste of you before you took off. Four?" Foldo's amused expression falls to something more embarrassed. "Two? One?"  
"I haven't been kissed by anyone yet." He mumbled.  
Jussipo's eyes widen at that thought. Really? No one was enamoured enough with the kid to lay one on him? That was beyond belief.  
"Jesus, Fol, no one? I'll fix that for you right now, pucker up buttercup-" Foldo frowned, shoving him away.  
"That's not funny. I want it to be special, with someone who really likes me." Jussipo's genuine affection burned hot, a simmering flame within him, but he just gulped it down. "I'm not some insecure fool for you to play with."  
"Of course you aren't," Jussipo assures him, laying a hand on his bicep. "I'm sorry. When it happens I'm sure it'll be really lovely. I mean it." Foldo grunts like he's still irritated then turns to the open door.  
"Tiuri's back."

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The sound of hooves is distant enough that Jussipo doesn't even register it until it's close, wherein he panics. How had Iona not heard it from afar and warned them? She was their expert tracker, wasn't she?  
Instead it's Foldo that rushes to his side, telling him of a black wave approaching from the East and alerting him to the whip of reins and clinking of armour. Jussipo immediately looks for Piak, the tender safety net he'd cast around the village now popped. He felt like an open wound, an exposed nerve. His things weren't packed and the Novices were spread across the village.  
Foldo's hand clamped down on his shoulder, sea-blue eyes boring into his own from above.  
"Jussipo. One thing at a time." Had he been saying this out loud? "I'm going to fetch the others, you take Piak and pack the horses for transport. Warn anyone you can along the way."  
"Understood," Jussipo says, feeling that sense of purpose bloom once more. "And Fol- stay safe," he says quickly, ducking from Foldo's hand on his shoulder and making for the barn.


	5. all night, i'll riot with you

After it all they're down to three. The chosen one is Lavinia, apparently, she's been orchestrating every supernatural event without even knowing it. And she's gone; left them to fend for themselves against the might of the King along with Tiuri who took off in the opposite direction and whose leadership they needed desperately. Not to mention the letter pressed into his jacket pocket. Worse, Iona had sold them down the river and Arman had ditched them, so it was Piak, Foldo and Jussipo on their steeds, no letter, no team, and no one to blast the door down.  
Splintered though they were, they tracked Tiuri into the forest until his trail was cold, then set to calling his name through the creaking forest.  
It was a long four hours.  
Their canteens dried up quickly with their constant yelling and it wasn't until the three of them squatted before a rocky cascade to fill them that Jussipo looked to Foldo properly. He had slept fitfully the night before but clearly the adrenaline was still keeping him alert; their parents' lives on the line was enough to stave off exhaustion for a while, but they needed food and rest for their minds to be sharp.  
"We may need to set up camp soon. If I find a-"  
"Not yet." The woods had started becoming denser and harder to navigate, and the trail was long since dry. "Later." The crack in his voice tugged at Jussipo's heart like the strings of a harp, so he left it.

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Setting up camp reached priority status once the sun dipped low; the trunks and flat leaves of the trees baked in an orange glow and the sounds of nocturnal creatures began to croak around them. Foldo and Jussipo nurtured some kipling into a roaring fire and unpacked their rations from the village, the last time they'd share a sourdough loaf for a while, Jussipo wagered, if they were all charged with treason.  
"Maybe we should rendezvous at the village tomorrow," Jussipo rationalised, spreading jam on a thick slice of bread. "Maybe Tiuri and Lavinia returned."  
"Maybe," Foldo hummed, quieter and softer now that he could recline. Piak yawned long and loud before rolling up a jacket for his pillow and turning on his side. The kid wasn't all bad, Jussipo could admit. Not out loud, but in his head maybe. He leaned over and pulled his beanie over his ears, stroking his head gently.  
"Sleep well, kiddo," he murmured. The darkness had become far more pronounced now, with only the firelight reflecting off their bodies. It was almost idyllic if they ignored the crushing pressure of the apocalypse.  
Jussipo brought the lute out - his nine-pound, meticulously maintained lute - and tuned it quietly to fill the silence. Perhaps he'd finish the refrain he'd been building on the journey.

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The tranquillity lasted for all of four minutes, with Jussipo bashfully strumming his lute and Foldo continuing to sharpen his sword as if the kiss hadn't happened. It had. Oh god, it had. It had been brief and unsure, but the press of Foldo's lips was still lingering like a ghostly weight.  
The thought of Foldo being genuinely interested was like a kick to the gut, honestly. Jussipo had read all of the signs like little green flags, yet circled around to convincing himself that they were in his head. That he was extrapolating based on his own preference.  
He glanced into his peripheral and saw a heady blush cross from one cheek to another; Foldo's ears were a deep red and he was focused on his task. Jussipo licked his lips and paused the strumming.  
Foldo turned to him, uncertainty radiating from his form in the firelight.  
"I-"  
"Do you-" Their soft laughter broke the quiet and Foldo gestured for him to continue.  
"I didn't know you were interested in ... men, let alone me." Foldo laughed at that, placing the sharpening stone aside with his blade.  
"I like girls too, but there was a while when I thought I was wrong or defective. So I just focused on what I was good at and quelled my desire." Jussipo felt himself wilt in sympathy. He could more than relate.  
"That's what I did with you," he admitted, stroking the neck of his lute and feeling the smoothness of the finish. "I worried I was projecting but my heart was..." he pressed a palm to his chest and blew out a breath. Foldo's dark eyes fixated on him.  
"Yeah?" he asked, voice small. For the second time that night, a flickering light pulsed in Jussipo's tummy, and for a second time he refused to tamp it down like before. With a singular focus, he reached over to bring their faces close once more.  
"Yeah," he murmured, tilting his face to properly kiss the boy. It was better this time, more confident. Foldo's breath came out smothered from his nose and made an adorable snuffling sound as he exhaled, not to mention his long fingers instinctively grasping onto Jussipo's waist. Jussipo imagined he looked silly with his lute hanging from his figure, hunched on all fours as he was. He was probably making embarrassing noises as well, but by god, he didn't care. For all he knew, the leaves were spinning in orbit around their entwined bodies. This was the embrace he'd thought about since seeing Lavinia and Tiuri in the middle of the field. He pulled back and laid a wet kiss on the corner of Foldo's mouth, then on his nose.  
"Special enough for you?" Jussipo quips, and Foldo's eyebrows furrow. "Your first kiss. You said-"  
"Oh. Um. Yes. Very romantic with the firelight and everything." They shared a laugh, an easy enough task that Jussipo was grateful for. More than anything, he was relieved that the transition from close friends to ... more ... was one without hiccup. Foldo's hand moved to his, gaining confidence. Warmth from him, warmth from the fire and from his own chest glowing with happiness seemed to be the sutures that healed a gaping loneliness that had been unresolved for a long time. Jussipo felt his smile press against Foldo's, removing his lute from around his shoulder and leaning into Foldo's tall form with abandon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that takes us to the end! i hope you guys really liked it, the letter for the king tag is quiet but still going so there's still quite a few of us thinking about this show.
> 
> if you liked it feel free to leave a comment or don't, no obligation. there's more i might post if they get finished, we'll see!

**Author's Note:**

> i use some anachronistic terminology here but if they know what weekends are in this universe then i'll let them know about the hormone adrenaline as well.


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